


No Cheese Here

by orphan_account



Category: Transformice
Genre: Gen, Music Mode, Normal mode, Survivor Mode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of sketches of different shaman personalities in the Transformice Playing Fields.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Cheese Here

The wind was fresh, and the night was cold. A single Shaman stood at the peak of a floating wooden construct, surveying the landscape.

Laid around her were a multitude of unconscious or fearful mice, crushed fragments of sharp cheddar cheese, and the occasional cannonball that had not gone flying off the edge of the lower platform.

Some mice were futilely hanging on to the edge of the platform, trying to stay in the game by staying carefully out of the Shaman's range. Every now and then, one of them failed to latch onto wood at a critical time, and fell into the soft grass below the wooden platform, marked the "Out" zone.

The squeal of a young mouse grabbed her attention, and she whirled around to see a dappled tawny mouse heading straight towards her.

A cannonball quickly dispatched the offending mouse, and her cries of disappointment at not being able to avoid the cannonball for the forty-third time in a row were easily comprehensible.

The shaman went back to tranquilly surveying the landscape, taking in the reflection of the moon in a nearby lake.

Another noise brought her attention back to the playing field. A black mouse wearing a helmet was trying to silently approach the Shaman, hoping that his proximity would render him invulnerable to any cannonballs.

No such luck.

The Shaman deftly swept herself into the air, and launched a cannonball at the mouse below her. He was rudely pushed to his side, flying over the edge of the platform in a matter of seconds. All the mice below could see his tail extended straight in fear as he descended to the "Out" field, then touching ground and tumbling head over tail.

She, however, kept her delicate poise, her tail ornament remaining the slightest distance away from the ground, her green-and-brown dyed fur perfectly arranged as it was before the match, still preserving the lustrous shine of the most well-maintained fur.

Her wings shimmered at the tips, as she observed them for any trace of dirt or dust. Spying a fleck of unexpected particle, she carefully -

Another mouse, dangit! She called on her magic and quickly constructed rotating beams around her, so that no mouse could expect to survive on the wooden platform. The occasional younger mouse was able to stay carefully away from the beams, but the more... chunky mice were swiftly (and rudely) pushed off of the ledge.

"Time. You have thirty seconds remaining." The voice of the announcer mouse rang throughout the playing field. The few surviving mice smiled at each other, hoping to weather out the undoubtedly rough final thirty seconds.

The shaman went back to cleaning her wings, casting a cannonball towards the closest surviving mouse every five seconds or so.

"Time. Your time is up. Next round, shaman is..."

Her brief reign was over.

**Author's Note:**

> Ported from FanFiction.Net


End file.
